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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29130753">The Life of Remus Lupin, Told in Full Moons</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemontreeleaves/pseuds/lemontreeleaves'>lemontreeleaves</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Full Moon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:33:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29130753</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemontreeleaves/pseuds/lemontreeleaves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>From the age of 5, Remus Lupin's life was determined by the course of the moon, whether he wanted it or not.</p><p>A collection of the most notable full moons in Remus' life.</p><p>(tags to be updated as necessary)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hope Lupin/Lyall Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1960</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>March 13, 1960</em>
</p><p>Remus Lupin was all of three days old on his first full moon.</p><p> </p><p>Hope Lupin, seated in an old but comfortably high-back armchair held her baby boy close to her, the newborn swaddled in white with his small eyes closed. She could actively feel every muscle and tendon in her body going slack for the first time in three days. As Remus peacefully slept, Hope allowed herself a moment of rest, choosing to enjoy the silence of the living room, the infant’s tiny breaths just audible to her. The door creaked open, and Lyall entered, their eyes connecting for a moment to say <em>he’s asleep</em>. They were only a few days in but Hope already had a strong inkling they were going to be pretty good at being parents. He crept around, placing a feather-light kiss on the top of her head, then did the same to Remus, careful not to wake him.</p><p> </p><p>“How is he?”</p><p> </p><p>“Resting.” She replied serenely, casting her gaze back down to Remus before looking up again.</p><p> </p><p>“And you?”. He sank into the chair beside her.</p><p> </p><p>“Happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad.” He gazed over at his son. Their son. Remus John Lupin. Their lives would now revolve around providing everything for their son. Perhaps even another one, in a few years’ time. Hope and Lyall had both been one of numerous siblings, and whether wizarding or muggle, the love they had to give was exactly alike. For now, though, the little boy in Hope’s arms was more than enough.</p><p> </p><p>Lyall took out his wand and with a slight twist of his wrist, the fire was lit. A smile crept on both of their faces.</p><p> </p><p>“Say, Lyall, do think Remus will be like you?” It was an innocent question with a lifetime of consequences attached to it. He put his wand down.</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see. He might show signs in a year’s time, or 5, or not at all. Could be a squib too, of course.” Hope didn’t fail to notice the tinge in his voice at the last possibility.</p><p> </p><p>“Well it wouldn’t be so terrible.”</p><p> </p><p>“What wouldn’t be?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know. A <em>normal</em> child. A muggle if you insist.” She half-joked; her bell-like voice hushed by her own whispering.</p><p> </p><p>“Hope–“ Lyall began.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah ah ah.” She cut him off, a hint of a grin on her face. “You said to wait and see. So that’s what we’ll do.”</p><p> </p><p>Truth be told, Hope was as nervous as Lyall was where magic was concerned, if not more. It was completely natural to wonder whether or not their child would kicking a soccer ball would make the ball itself float mid-air. Or make his own hair disappear, or in the case of a young Lyall Lupin, setting fire to the nursery curtains. When considering his magical lineage and her not-so magical lineage, the possibilities were a mixed bag. She glanced at the windows. Heavy cream drapes which were perfectly intact.</p><p> </p><p>“You know that I’d love our son no matter how he turned out.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you’d still prefer that he be like you though, don’t you dear?” she replied, not a shred of accusation in her tone. It didn’t leave room for argument, and he remained silent after that.</p><p> </p><p>Hope gazed out the window, her eyes transfixed on the full moon. The clear skies saw to it that the moon was bright, its outline sharp against the night sky.</p><p> </p><p>“Beautiful, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm?”</p><p> </p><p>“The moon, Lyall. It’s a full moon tonight.” She said wistfully.</p><p> </p><p>Lyall craned his neck to see for himself. “It certainly is.”</p><p> </p><p>It was one of the many things Lyall loved about Hope, her ability to find wonder in the most natural of things. To her, there was magic in everything.</p><p> </p><p>It was at that moment Remus had decided he’d had enough of resting, his eyes scrunching up as he began to let out a wail. Hope, now sitting up slightly, began to rock Remus gently, her long chestnut hair falling in loose waves around him as she bent over to shush him. Somehow, Remus had managed to untuck an arm which he used to aimlessly sift through the curtains of hair around him. Lyall was captivated by her ease. He always had been, and he knew it was the one thing about her he could count on to never change, no matter what the fates tested them with.</p><p> </p><p>“Here, let me hold him for a while.” The chair groaned as he stood up and stretched his arms out to hold his son, Hope resuming her position.</p><p> </p><p>He made multiple laps around their relatively small living room, the gentle motion successfully calming Remus down.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s my boy, my little baby boy.” He whispered to him, over and over. He’d say it every day of Remus’ life, he’d make sure Remus knew he was loved. It had only been three days and Lyall could hardly believe his eyes half the time. He had a <em>son</em>. He had a responsibility, a duty, and most importantly, a purpose. He had a penchant for protectiveness, he supposed, a tendency that led him to Hope all those years ago. Lyall Lupin was a man of honour, and he’d be damned if he let anything bad happen to them.</p><p> </p><p>Due to their less-than-conventional marriage–though muggles and magical folk shacking up together was far from unheard of, it remained a sensitive topic for the Lupins, a stone best left unturned. It wasn’t as though he’d intended to. The magical world had found Hope first, Lyall had simply been in the right place at the right time to protect her.</p><p> </p><p>Remus Lupin would certainly know magic, whether he knew it from within, like him, or from the outside, like her. With Lyall Lupin for a father, how could he not? The week before, Lyall had charmed the mobile above his prospective bassinet to move on its own and he’d used magic to paint the walls a fresh yellow.</p><p> </p><p>Still holding Remus, Lyall walked over to the window, father and son basking in the moonlight, completely unobscured. The city was strangely silent for once, though he told himself that the obscure hour might have something to do with it. For now, it was just him, his wife and his son, relishing in the beauty of their lives together. Lyall gazed out the window, while his son’s eyes were trained on him.</p><p> </p><p>Hope let out a yawn, slow and sleepy.</p><p> </p><p>“Well Remus, I think it’s time someone went to bed.” He teased, cracking a smile, but before Hope could manage an equally mischievous reply, the faint, though unmistakeable howl of a wolf caught both of their attention. She noticed the way Lyall sobered instantly, a shadow casting over his face.</p><p> </p><p>“It could just be–”</p><p> </p><p>“No, Hope. It wouldn’t be.” There was a dangerous edge in his tone, and she knew he was right. All wolves howled at the moon, but normal wolves didn’t live this close to the city. They certainly didn’t prowl around magical neighbourhoods like theirs. As the fire began to dwindle, she shuddered.</p><p> </p><p>“The house is warded, Lyall.” She was quick to reassure him. “I’m hardly one to judge the quality of spells, but I know you. I <em>trust</em> you. We’ll be fine.” Brown eyes locked with green. Remus was placed back in Hope’s hold.</p><p> </p><p>Lyall was pacing now, his fingers combing his sandy brown hair as he was prone to when he was feeling particularly unsettled. “I hope you’re right.” He sighed. “It’s just that almost every month–without fail, might I also add, there are reports of an attack, or a gathering, or Merlin forbid someone <em>bitten</em>. Someone <em>dead.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Lyall…” she started.</p><p> </p><p>“Muggles too, Hope.” He said, voice laced with caution.</p><p> </p><p>“Lyall. Please, not tonight.” Her voice intertwined with finality and authority. “Not right now.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Not with Remus in the room </em>went unspoken between the two.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” He meant it.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s quite alright.” She got up. “Shall we go to bed, love?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes we should.” All of the tension was gone from his voice and Hope could breathe. Their shared stubbornness could often be identified as the root of any clash between them, big or small, but as the exhaustion of caring for a newborn quickly began to settle in, neither of them had it in them to keep up their fronts.</p><p> </p><p>Hope put on a warm smile. “Put out the fire and shut the curtains, will you?”</p><p> </p><p>He reached for his wand. “Of course. Good night, dear.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good night, love.” Then, quite unintentionally, his voice rose an octave <em>“Good night, Remus.”</em> And Hope shut the door behind her, a soft giggle on her lips.</p><p> </p><p>With that, it was Lyall, the moon and the cooling fireplace alone in the living room. He gazed out at the sky once again and knew he would be expected back at work in a matter of days; his newborn son and barely recovered wife were irrelevant, for the most part, in the grand scheme of the Ministry.</p><p> </p><p>Lyall Lupin’s life was defined by responsibility. To his work, to his wife, to his son, and encompassing the three most important things in his life, was his duty to make the world safe for them.</p><p> </p><p>It was all that mattered.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 1965</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Remus Lupin's first full moon, a month after the bite.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>December 8, 1965</em>
</p><p>It was funny how one sentence could ruin your entire life. One sentence. Just one. The words that set-in motion a horrific chain of events that would alter the course of all three of Lupin’s lives forever.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Soulless creatures. Evil. Deserving of nothing but death.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Oh, you damned fool Lyall. Why? Why, why <em>why?</em></p><hr/><p>Remus Lupin could be found in a number of places throughout the Lupin household. He could be found in the living room, running his little fingers over the spines of the books on the second lowest shelf. In his father’s study, tugging on his father’s leg asking to play, or reaching for his mother’s hand when he wanted a cookie from the jar he couldn’t yet reach.</p><p> </p><p>Today was not such a day, however, and Remus was not running about the house. Today, he could be found sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bedroom floor, his hands running over the gauze wrapped snug around his forearm. <em>It healed ages ago, why do I have to keep it on?</em></p><p> </p><p>He poked and prodded it, lifting it where he could, to see the silvery marks on his skin. He thought it was pretty cool, and he didn’t get why his father didn’t want to see them when he lifted it. Remus didn’t know why his mother almost collapsed when he saw him running around, arms wide like an aeroplane, the bandage trailing behind him from his hand. <em>It was scary</em> he thought, remembering his mama’s white face as she rushed to reapply a new bandage, this one even tighter than the last. <em>Was I scary?</em></p><hr/><p>Ever since the St Mungo’s trip 3 weeks ago, things just hadn’t been the same and he didn’t know why. It was as though the whole world had suddenly flipped on its axis and none of them could find their balance. He only remembered bits and pieces, a few hushed words, the stiff bed, and the sound of other children down the hall. Were they in as much pain as he was? The adults were worried. Worried about him.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>October 10, 1965, one month earlier.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was cold, to start with; even with the blankets held up to his chin. His body quivered, vaguely registering the events of the last hour or so. The sound of glass shattering, a great big beast–no, a monster! Suddenly, a powerful pain in his left shoulder as the world around him went black.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>His mama crying. His father pacing the private room in the children’s ward, yelling at the doctors to do something, anything. Six wands–or was it seven? Maybe five? All pointed in his direction, spell after spell. Remus kept his eyes screwed shut. The force of the incantations made the room feel as though it were about to explode, and the awful taste of potions that were only seeming to make things worse stung his throat. When he himself began to cry, his senses sent well into overdrive as the air thickened with the potency of magic. The spells kept coming. What are they doing? I want them to stop.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>What’s wrong with me?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I want to go home! I want to go!” he pleaded, choking on his words. The room was spinning by this point.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Just one more, dear.” Mama rushed, kissing his forehead. Her breathlessness betrayed her attempted collectiveness.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Remus grabbed his mama’s arm with two hands, pleading. “But that’s what you said last time!” He didn’t want her to walk away.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I know, I know. Last one, I promise.” There was the sense that she was finally giving up as she quickly stroked the fine hair on his head. She seemed dismayed, but at least they were finally going home. His papa had his back turned.</em>
</p><hr/><p>When they returned home, the first thing Remus did was throw up–he stumbled out of the fireplace and spewed onto the carpet, finally feeling the effects of countless failed medical, protection and reversal charms all at once. He normally felt like he could take on the world, but now all he wanted was to curl up under the covers and forget that horrible place.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I apologise, Mr and Mrs Lupin but I must reiterate that there is no known cure for lycanthropy.” The doctor turned to Lyall; “Surely you, sir, would have known this already.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Finally, the sun began to slowly creep over the horizon, bringing what had been the worst night of their lives to a close. Remus, dozing off in his father’s arms was taken to bed, falling into the deep sleep his little body ached for. What happened next, they could talk about later. <em>Or never. Never would be nice too.</em></p><hr/><p>The next month felt out of kilter, to say the least.</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t make sense to Remus–though he <em>was</em> just a five-year-old and a lot of things didn’t make any sense to him; like how light switches worked, or how babies were made. His parents were reluctant at best and adamant at worst when it came to his tirade of questions, but if there was one thing he did know, it was that if he wanted answers, he would have to find them himself.</p><p> </p><p>Closed doors. Late nights. Hushed whispers and the overwhelming sense of dread with each passing day defined the remainder of the month.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Lyall, what are we going to do?”. She asked her husband, seven days after that night.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“You think I know how to handle a five-year-old lycanthrope?” Lyall spat.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“He’s our SON! We can’t lie to him forever.” Hope seethed back.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Remus would emerge from behind the door, smiles all around and jump into their arms. His mama would wash him, and his father would cook breakfast and life would go on. Mama would read him stories and he’d run to fireplace when papa came home from work. Remus did everything he was supposed to like a good boy. He learned quickly that the best way to keep the peace was to pretend that there was no threat to the peace to begin with. Remus Lupin, however, had never been one for playing pretend.</p><p> </p><p>Another week passed them by.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“A good locking charm and silencing spells should be sufficient for the night.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“But will he be alright?” Her voice dropped to a shaky whisper. “Is it going to hurt him?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Do you really want me to tell you?” Lyall said, almost emotionless. Then his face softened. “How can it not hurt? He’ll most likely feel every bone–”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Stop. Please.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m sorry.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Evidently, you know a lot more than you let on, Lyall.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“And there is so much that you do not know. I’ve been avoiding telling you because I know it’ll kill you to hear it. I can barely breathe just thinking about it.” He sighed deeply, burying his head in his hands. “I’ve ruined everything. I know.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes. You have.”, her voice sitting dangerously at the crossroads between murderous and collected. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Papa looked pained, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, accentuating the bags under his eyes. Hurt him? What were they talking about? He didn’t like the sound of pain, so why were they going on about it? What do they mean, ‘pain’?</p><hr/><p>
  <em>December 8, 1965</em>
</p><p>It was a miserable morning for Remus. Instead of skyrocketing out of bed at the sight of snow outside, he pulled the covers over himself as his skull throbbed and his body ached all the way to his toes. The brilliance of the snow should’ve excited him, instead, it was an eyesore that made his vision go spotty. He was sick, and he knew he wasn’t going to be having any fun today.</p><p> </p><p>The door creaked open and Hope slowly crept in. She was cautious, more than she’d ever been. “Good morning, dear.” Remus mumbled in response. She came to sit on the side of his bed, placing her hand on his forehead and alternating between her palm and the back of her hand. “Not feeling so well?” she managed with a small smile, her eyes wide with motherly concern.</p><p> </p><p>“No.” he mumbled, sitting up to throw his arms around her middle and bury his head into her side. She held him without an inch of space between them. She’d hold him for as long as he wanted. For as long as she could.</p><p> </p><p>She was a fraud of a mother, telling her son he would feel better in the morning. Well, perhaps not a total fraud–if she skipped over the part where he would transform into a werewolf for the first time. But she’d been lying to him all month long, so fraud was correct.</p><p> </p><p>“He’ll…He’ll be fine.” Lyall’s breath smelt unmistakably of whiskey, drifting across her senses. It was ten in the morning. She said nothing of it.</p><p> </p><p>Hope didn’t have it in her to kick up a fight, not after the last four weeks of arguing and the aftermaths. “And what about afterwards?” She didn’t meet his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“A problem for tomorrow morning, then, Hope.” He quipped back, his response notably lacking humour.</p><p> </p><p>The remainder of the day passed at an agonizingly slow pace, as though it were a punishment, with no one in more agony than little Remus himself. Remus who complained of aches in places he could barely identify, who broke out into multiple sweats and pulled at his hair <em>just wanting it to stop. Stop, stop stop!</em></p><p>
  
</p><p> Why couldn’t papa fix it with his wand? He wondered. Remus thought that was what magic was for. He figured that’s what the magic was used for at St Mungo’s.</p><p> </p><p>Being cooped up all day was also taking its toll on him. As much as he loved his bed, he loved the snow too, maybe even more. It was magic to him.</p><p> </p><p>Today was simply not the day for fun and games though, so he stared at the ceiling until that gave him a headache, then he turned to face the wall adjacent to him, then the dresser across the foot of the bed, rotating between the three exceptionally boring views.</p><p> </p><p>His mama would check on him frequently with his meals which she fed him herself. Then she’d bring water and damp towels to place on his forehead, the impact of which was marginal. Less frequently, his father would come in with his wand, muttering a spell under his breath and then leaving the room with a kiss on his burning forehead.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t long until Remus felt his eyes began to droop and he fell asleep with ease.</p><hr/><p>Remus woke up a few hours later, groggy, barely registering the sun just finishing its descent below the horizon in a haze of pink and orange. <em>Who knew sleep could make you so hungry? When was dinner?</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Throwing off the numerous bedcovers, he climbed out of bed and began heading towards the door.</p><p> </p><p>Then it happened. The boiling in his stomach exploded like fireworks throughout his entire body, tears prickling in his eyes. He clutched his midsection, his clammy fingers digging into his sides. He could feel his brain pressing against every surface of his skull, his mind babbling <em>it hurts it hurts it HURTS.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p><em>What’s happening to me? </em>Was the last thought that crossed Remus’ mind as he felt a crack deep inside him. As he continued to sob, his vision went spotty, and the world spiralled away.</p>
  </div></div>
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